


The Sweetest Days

by Thymesis



Series: Star Wars Rare Pairs Collection (NC-17) [7]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Dramatic Irony, Explicit Sexual Content, First Time, Luke and Old Ben Being Adorable Together, M/M, POV Third Person, Pre-Series, Prostitution, Rare Pairing, Sappy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-19
Updated: 2017-08-22
Packaged: 2018-12-04 10:43:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 10,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11553531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thymesis/pseuds/Thymesis
Summary: It had begun as a dare.“Hello there,” the whore called out.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Please Note: This story is sexually explicit right from the get-go, and the tags technically spoil the first couple of chapters, but you’ll forgive me for both of these things, won’t you? Pretty please? :-)
> 
> Also: There will be plot. Of sorts. Eventually.
> 
> Finally: This is a new pairing for me. Do let me know what you think! (And don’t be squeamish…about the pairing or the feedback. ;-) )

It had begun as a dare.

“Hello there,” the whore called out. He spoke with a cultured Core Worlds accent. This whore was not raised on Tatooine.

Luke Skywalker cringed back into the shadow cast by the arched doorway. He was making a terrible mistake. He’d paid in advance, true, but that didn’t matter. The brothel could keep the credits, and Luke could go home and lose his virginity the old-fashioned way with one of the girls from school. No one—and certainly not the friends who’d been teasing him so mercilessly—would ever be the wiser.

“It’s all right; don’t be afraid. Come into the light.” This whore was not young. His hair and beard were completely white, in fact, and his face was deeply lined. Yet his expression was keen and intelligent, and there was something special about the elegance with which he reclined upon the expansive bed—this had been a very handsome man once, once upon a time.

Luke hesitated. He’d been about to step forward, but at the last second he’d thought better of it.

“I won’t bite, I promise,” the whore assured him. “Well, not unless you want me to,” he amended, eyes twinkling with good-natured mischief. His eyes were blue, Luke realized distantly—bright, crystalline, and beautiful. Devastatingly attractive.

A spear of arousal, urgent and sweet, lanced through him. He felt himself beginning to thicken with interest. How…unexpected. Maybe this wouldn’t be bad after all. Before he could second-guess his choices again, Luke moved fully into the room. The whore looked him up and down, appraising. He did his best not to flinch under the weight of this scrutiny.

The whore, for his part, seemed surprised by what he saw for a moment, but the impression passed so quickly that Luke wasn’t certain it hadn’t just been his overactive imagination. “So, how do you want it?” the whore asked, rising from the bed to stand face-to-face in front of Luke, suddenly all business.

“I-I d-don’t—” Luke stuttered, feigning fascination with the roughspun beige robe the whore was wearing. Oh no, he hadn’t actually thought this bit through. Stupid!

“I see. Let’s start simple then, shall we?”

The whore knelt on the floor, reached for Luke’s belt, unbuckling it with swift, practiced hands, and opened the front of his leggings. His genitals tumbled out. Luke was hard and aching already; it wouldn’t take much. The whore grasped the shaft of his penis and stroked downward, exposing the wet glans. Luke quivered with anticipation. “Ah, to be a teenager again,” the whore murmured…and then he craned his neck forward and touched Luke gently with the tip of his tongue.

Luke stifled a gasp as the whore lapped at the minute beads of fluid he was leaking and teased the underside of his foreskin. No one had ever—! It was shockingly intimate, and it felt so damn good. Luke’s fingers were clenching and unclenching reflexively in response; now he desperately wanted to touch this man in return, to caress him and express his gratitude, but he was afraid. Would his touch be welcome? He did not wish to give offense, and he’d been told that one should never kiss a whore on the lips…

Meanwhile, one of the whore’s hands had slipped lower to cup and cradle his scrotum while the other reached around to brace against the small of his back, and suddenly he was swallowing Luke whole, nose mashed against his pubic bone, facial hair tickling the sensitive flesh of his inner thighs. Luke doubled over with a high-pitched wail, any last coherent thoughts shattering into sharp shards of perfect ecstasy as the whore’s throat muscles massaged and tightened around his erection, and he spilled himself in long, soul-wrenching pulses that seemed to go on and on and on and on forever.

Luke couldn’t quite recall what had happened immediately after that, but somehow he ended up flat on his back in the middle of the whore’s bed, happy and adrift in the languorous aftermath of that annihilating orgasm. The whore lay on his side beside him, head resting on the crook of one arm and gazing down upon Luke with an odd look on his face, something like patient fondness.

“I’d forgotten how exquisitely sensitive the young are,” the whore remarked dryly. “You paid for three hours, but that didn’t take three minutes.”

Luke flushed. “I-I’m sorry— I’d never— It was my first time and—oh!” Why had he volunteered that?! Stupid, stupid, _stupid_! Maybe the Sun Gods would just strike him down now and spare his silly, virgin self the trouble of having to die of shame. He covered his face and tried roll away.

“Ah, no, please, there’s no need to feel ashamed.” The mattress creaked as the whore shifted closer to him, and Luke felt a tentative, apologetic brush to the back of his head. “The young also recover quickly, and we have plenty of time left. What else would you like to do?”

Were all whores this readily accommodating? Or only the older, experienced ones? Unfortunately, Luke had only the vaguest ideas about what two men might do with each other, and he wasn’t about to request other, additional sexual acts when he didn’t even know what they were called. He subsided into contemplative silence, and the whore did not attempt to press him further. What _did_ he want? Well, he had wanted to give pleasure in return, but…

Hmm. Was it really that simple?

 _Let’s start simple then, shall we?_ the whore had said.

“Would you allow me to, uhh, I mean—” Luke paused, flustered, and took a deep calming breath. He turned back over so that he could look the whore directly in the eye. The whore smiled his encouragement, and when Luke tried to speak again, there was no lingering hesitation:

“I’d like to touch you.”

 

TO BE CONTINUED


	2. Chapter 2

To the whore’s credit, he did not laugh or scoff at Luke’s awkward request. Instead, he merely smiled indulgently and said, “Of course.”

Still, yet again, Luke hesitated. Now that he had permission, he realized he didn’t know what to do with it. The whore seemed to sense this, however, and, without prompting, laid back down flat on the bed, arms loose at his sides, legs splayed and bent slightly at the knee. It was a posture of unmistakable invitation, open and welcoming, patient and unintimidating. Kind. This whore was assuring Luke without words that he was content to allow Luke to set the pace and perimeters of their encounter.

And this assurance was precisely what Luke needed. He reached for the open front of the whore’s robe and, with some wriggling assistance on the part of the whore, removed and cast it aside. His own clothes quickly followed, and he marveled at his own audacity; Aunt Beru had drilled him throughout boyhood in the virtues of modesty, and he didn’t know of anyone else besides her, not even Uncle Owen, who had ever seen him naked.

Well. Presumably Luke had been _born_ naked, but he figured whoever had been present at the time hardly counted. He knew nothing about the particular circumstances of his birth anyway.

Besides, he was much too interested in the whore at the moment to be concerned overmuch about himself. The whore’s skin bore unmistakable signs of years of harsh desert exposure. But beneath the superficial blemishes and loss of elasticity, his muscles were unexpectedly supple, and he carried only a little extra weight around his midsection. Luke thought the roundness of his belly was charming, actually, and he stroked it boldly with both hands, marveling at the sensuous softness of the flesh beneath his palms.

He explored at his leisure, without any particular goal in mind, watching the whore’s responses to his caresses intently. How he smiled when Luke rubbed his shoulders. How his lips parted with exhalation when Luke flicked at his nipples. How he stretched and arched his back when Luke rubbed up and down his sides. How he canted his hips upwards when Luke combed through the silky hair that ran from his navel down to his groin—

Luke brushed the tip of one finger along the length of the whore’s penis. He wasn’t hard. Even so, he appeared—though it wasn’t like Luke had lots of firsthand experience with which to make an accurate judgment—to be rather larger than average. Not obscene, not intimidating…just…enticing. He wanted to see how much it would grow. He began to pump the length of the shaft, encouraging, finding exactly the right rhythm on pure instinct.

He was not disappointed. It thickened and lengthened dramatically and acquired a lovely curve as it engorged fully. “You’re…beautiful here too,” Luke murmured, only half-aware that he was voicing his thoughts aloud. “I ought to be insanely jealous, but…”

The whore chuckled. “It _is_ an asset in this profession, if I’m honest, since most of the customers are here to be penetrated.” He paused. “Well, either that, or they want to do the penetrating themselves!” He chuckled again and then turned serious. “But it never does to take pride in one’s unearned attributes.”

The mention of penetration made Luke nervous. How could that not hurt a man?! He began to stroke the whore’s erection with more determination, in a manner that he would use to bring himself to a quick completion—

A sharp, indrawn hiss, and suddenly the whore was prying Luke’s hands off his body. “You were going to make me come,” he explained, apologetic, before Luke had the opportunity to feel offended, “and you may have noticed that I’m not as young as you are. Do you want me to take you? Because if so—”

Take me? As in penetration?!?!

“No!” Luke squealed. He probably sounded like a child, but he was beyond caring.

The whore stared pointedly down at Luke’s rampant erection. Luke had been so intent on arousing his partner that he hadn’t even been cognizant of his own response. “Would you prefer to take me, then? Don’t worry; I prepared in advance.” Luke was really starting to hate that clipped, businesslike tone. Without prompting, the whore turned around and went onto his hands and knees. It was a terrible, impersonal position, suited to a slave…or an _animal_.

“No!” Luke squealed a second time. “That’s not…!” The crevice between the whore’s buttocks was glistening with some sort of lubricant. Luke closed his eyes and tried to erase the sight from his mind. Calm. Breathe. He would not treat this lovely old man, a whore, yes, but also a sentient being, like an animal. “No,” Luke repeated firmly, and when he opened his eyes, the whore had resumed an ordinary, seated position on the bed. “That’s not what I want.”

For the first time, the whore looked unsure. He did not speak.

“I said I wanted to touch you,” Luke reminded him. “I still do. And I’d…I’d like to taste you when you come,” he added, feeling suddenly shy again.

He got his wish. And it was wonderful.

Luke couldn’t take the whore’s whole penis into his mouth, so he contented himself with long, attentive licks and tiny, teasing nips. When salty fluid began to well up from the tip, Luke suckled it away, moaning his hunger and appreciation. At some point, he noticed that he was straddling one of the whore’s legs and rubbing himself wantonly against it, and that the whore seemed to be encouraging him, pushing against his groin and echoing his moans.

All too soon, the whore was clearly teetering on the precipice of orgasm. Something, _something_ , though, was stopping him from tumbling over. “Put your fingers in me, please, put your fingers in me,” the whore begged, guiding Luke’s hand below his scrotum to his anus. Their fingers sank inside of him together—so easy!—and then the whore was shuddering and tossing his head back and forth and coating Luke’s lips with thick, warm semen.

“Oh, stars, I…Luke!” the whore cried.

Luke froze—he’d never mentioned his name.

 

TO BE CONTINUED


	3. Chapter 3

_Everybody knows everybody, and nobody is worth knowing._

It was a popular saying in his small corner of back-of-beyond Tatooine, and Luke had always regarded it as unnecessarily cruel. Here in this seedy little brothel bedroom, however, he was fast discovering that at least the first part was literally true.

“You… H-how do you…?!” Luke croaked. The words were caught in his throat, trapped between arousal and adrenaline. He tried licking his lips and swallowing, but the intoxicating flavor of the whore’s orgasm was strong on him, and that only made him feel more confused than ever. He pulled his knees up tight against his chest and shivered; he felt both hot and cold simultaneously.

The whore’s expression was still soft with the afterglow of his pleasure as he leaned forward and reached toward Luke. Luke flinched—he couldn’t help it—but the whore merely wiped his face clean with the corner of a bedsheet, infinitely gentle, and wrapped it around Luke, covering his nakedness. Then the whore retrieved his robe from the floor, put it on, and sat back down on the edge of the bed. He was being respectful and cautious, giving Luke plenty of personal space.

“I know Owen and Beru. I used to visit the farm on occasion, and sometimes I’d see you,” the whore began without preamble. “It’s been awhile, though; your uncle doesn’t like me very much.” He heaved a rueful sigh.

Luke grimaced. It came as no surprise that Uncle Owen would have a low opinion of a whore. Of course. That was entirely in-character. Oddly, the banal familiarity of his uncle’s prejudices had the effect of calming Luke. No, he didn’t feel panicked anymore. He took a deep breath and turned to look at the whore, studying his face, brow furrowed, straining to remember. Where…? _Who_ …?

“You don’t remember.” It wasn’t a question. “I’m Ben,” the whore volunteered.

Ben…? Luke racked his brain. Ben…? A common enough name, but—

“Ben _Kenobi_?!” Luke gasped, realization hitting him like a bolt of dry desert lightning. The eccentric old man living all by himself somewhere far out in the Wastes?! He was a—?!

“The very same,” the whore— _Ben_ —confirmed. “At your service.”

The impeccable phrasing of that polished Core accent was so incongruous, so improbable, that Luke burst out laughing. Ben, seemingly almost in spite of himself, began to laugh along with him, and then suddenly everything was all right between them again.

He’d heard his uncle grumble about “Kenobi, that crazy fool” in the past, but never had he suspected the truth. “Gods, no wonder Uncle Owen doesn’t like you!” Luke chortled.

“Indeed.” Deadpan. But a hint of sadness had crept into Ben’s eyes.

Luke saw that and placed a hand on his shoulder, meaning to reassure, to comfort. “He’s always been such a prude. You shouldn’t take it personally.”

Ben said nothing. Instead, he placed a hand over Luke’s, the one resting on his shoulder, and Luke knew Ben was grateful for his words.

Luke moved in closer. He could not help it. Ben had a gravitational pull all his own.

Before long, they were locked together, embracing, limbs tangled. So very close, skin to skin, touching and caressing everywhere they could reach, Ben tickling Luke’s throat with his beard, Luke nuzzling behind Ben’s ear, breathing his clean scent, just the tiniest hint of the desert clinging to him. Losing track of time. Just touch. Simple touch. No need for speech anymore. So very slow and tender and excruciatingly sweet, losing themselves in this joining, and surely, Luke decided, _this_ is what it meant to make love. He came twice more, whimpering, aching, profound, full body orgasms, and so, towards the end, did Ben, eyes gone wide with shock and delight as a small amount of wet warmth pulsed out between them.

Then the three hours he’d paid for were over, and Luke was putting his clothes on and clipping his belt back around his waist. Ben was tidying up around the room, in preparation, presumably, for his next customer. Luke was feeling terribly shy and awkward again—how far he had traveled from this thing that had begun as a simple, stupid dare! He’d lost his virginity today. And yet. Yet. He didn’t quite want this to be the end between them.

“Ben, I—” Luke began. He wished…he _hoped_ … No, he couldn’t bring himself to say it.

One corner of Ben’s mouth quirked upward. “See you around, Luke.”

Luke acknowledged the farewell with a single nod…and fled.

***

His friends were waiting for him outside the brothel, whooping and clapping when they saw him emerge.

“Now that’s a well-fucked-over look if I’ve ever seen one!” one friend crowed.

“Three hours exactly,” a second announced to the group after checking his wrist chrono. “I wouldn’t have thought he had it in him!”

“C’mon, let’s get wasted. First round’s on you, Luke,” a third said.

Luke didn’t really want to go out drinking, not after everything that had happened, but he allowed his friends to escort him to the nearest cantina anyway. In the end, he didn’t make it home until after dusk, and Aunt Beru scolded him for staying out so late when there was so much work to be done next morning in preparation for the harvest. She also smelled the alcohol on him, naturally, but otherwise suspected nothing.

Luke mumbled some perfunctory apologies to his aunt and went straight to bed.

That night, he dreamed of Ben. They were standing on a high plateau, their arms around each other, watching the twin suns sink below the horizon. Luke awoke with a hideous hangover and dried tears caked in his lashes.

***

There were no two ways around it: He wanted to see Ben again. His kindness, his unexpected grace, how he’d gasped and shuddered and clung to Luke tighter than a mynock to a starship hull when he came— You’re being stupid, stupid, _stupid_ , Luke told himself over and over. What kind of suns-baked idiot develops these sorts of feelings for a whore?! Ben cares about credits, not you. He’s just another aging whore.

But he wasn’t, was he? He was Ben Kenobi, the so-called Wizard of the Jundland Wastes. He was…special. _He was—_

What, exactly?

Two weeks later, Luke returned to the brothel.

And when Ben smiled, all of his doubts and worries were temporarily forgotten.

 

TO BE CONTINUED


	4. Chapter 4

“Luke. You’re back,” Ben remarked. “Another dare?” The delicate skin on the outer edges of his eyes crinkled.

Luke blushed hotly. He was being teased, and no self-respecting young human male appreciates that, but more to the point— “How did you find out about the dare?” he asked.

Ben shrugged and turned away, his attention suddenly directed toward bed pillows that didn’t really look like they required the vigorous fluffing he was inflicting upon them. “I merely assumed. Teenage boys,” _thump_ , “don’t usually make a habit,” _thump_ , “of patronizing old whores like me,” _thump_ , “unless they have something they want to prove to their peers,” _THUMP!_ Although he was trying to act nonchalant, Luke thought he detected a hint of old pain, and something that sounded like wounded pride, in Ben’s elegant voice.

Luke was surprised by the intensity of Ben’s reaction. Did Ben think that Luke had come back on a _second_ dare? And even if he had, Ben would be paid just the same, so why should he care? He certainly wasn’t acting like Luke was just another customer. It gave Luke hope that maybe, _maybe_ …

“Maybe they don’t,” Luke conceded, “but I do. There’s no dare this time. In fact,” he added, in as firm and confident a tone as he could muster, “I requested you specifically for today.”

“Why would you do that?” Ben was clutching a pillow against his chest. An irrational gesture of self-protection. He didn’t seem consciously aware that he was doing it, and he looked so vulnerable and lost in this moment that it hurt Luke’s heart.

Fortunately, Luke had an answer to this question already prepared. Deliberately, and with the greatest of care, like Ben were a skittish bantha calf that might buck or charge or flee at the slightest provocation, Luke closed in and eased the pillow from Ben’s white-knuckled grasp. Then he took Ben’s soft, smooth hands into his own work-roughened ones and said, “Because I want you teach me how to give you pleasure. Please, Ben. Show me what makes you feel good.”

“What makes _me_ …?” Ben echoed in disbelief.

“Yes.”

Ben lapsed into silence, but he did not try to move away from Luke. Finally, after what seemed an age, he said, with deliberate lightness, “Most customers aren’t interested in my pleasure, you know.”

“I’m not like most customers,” Luke retorted, holding Ben’s fathomless gaze with a level one of his own.

“No, you’re not,” Ben agreed. With exquisite tenderness, he stroked Luke’s cheek with the back of one hand. “Ah, Luke, Luke…” he murmured. Luke’s facial hair hadn’t come in yet; it probably still felt as downy as a child’s. Luke prayed that wouldn’t be a turn off.

It didn’t seem to be, though, for the stroking continued. Luke allowed himself to lean into the caresses, squeezed his eyes shut, and swallowed hard. He hadn’t forgotten what Ben had told him about penetration, and the looming prospect of pain in such a private place hadn’t stopped frightening him, but he would be brave if that’s what Ben wanted—

“Look at me.” Luke’s eyes snapped open at the command. Ben was smiling again, genuine and open. “Nothing we do today will bring harm to you, I promise. Your fear gives me no pleasure. Do you understand?”

Luke nodded.

“Then shall we begin?”

They did, and there were hardly any preliminaries because Luke was erect even before he removed his pants, and, as it turned out, Ben wanted Luke to, as he phrased it, “take him.”

“I’m already prepared. You won’t hurt me,” Ben assured him as he moved into position. “Now, lie back and relax.”

Luke eyed the flaccid penis brushing against his belly dubiously; Ben didn’t appear aroused by the prospect of intercourse. This was somewhat concerning, since Luke and his raging hormones were fully capable of getting hard for a hole in the ground should the need arise. Well, at least, Luke told himself, they would be face to face, so he’d be able to gauge Ben’s reactions. And Ben, not Luke, was on top, which made the whole situation seem a bit less like a “taking” and more like an offering.

“Are you really going to enjoy this?” Luke asked.

“Oh yes. In exchange for a moment of surrender, of self-abnegation, the most fleeting yet intimate of connections. There is nothing better than holding a lover here,” Ben said, patting the flesh below his navel as he began to sink down onto Luke.

Luke wasn’t certain he understood what Ben meant, but the word “lover”… Did Ben consider Luke his lover—?

“Guh!” They grunted in unison. Connection.

And then Luke was inside, all the way, as far in as he could possibly go. A muscular ring was holding the base of his shaft in an intensely pleasurable, vise-like grip, and Ben was welcoming and warm. Perfect, so very, very perfect. Luke trembled, determined not to thrust. No, he wanted Ben to set his own pace—

Too late. Luke was coming.

“Like a fountain,” Ben remarked once Luke had returned to some semblance of reality. He tweaked one of Luke’s nipples playfully and rocked against him. Dazedly, Luke realized that they were still joined. There was a wet, squelching sound.

Luke groaned with embarrassment and dismay. “Oh Gods, Ben, I’m so sorry, I couldn’t control—!”

“Shh,” Ben interrupted, soothing but mock-strict. “Last time, you maintained an erection for three hours straight. I expect no less from you this time.”

Luke gulped.

Ben was grinning down at him, all mischief, but the blue of his eyes burned like the hot heart of a methane gas flame. “Now, shall we continue?”

 

TO BE CONTINUED


	5. Chapter 5

How could Ben stand it? This was _torture_.

Slowly, ever so very slooooowly, Ben lifted himself up until only the tip of Luke’s penis was still inside of him. Then, just as slowly, he descended, all the way down until his weight was resting on Luke’s scrotum. And then he did it again. And again. And again.

They’d been at it for over an hour already. Luke had lost track long ago of how many times he’d orgasmed. Ben’s rhythm never changed, not even when Luke was tensing, moaning, and coming undone right there beneath him.

At least Luke was certain that this exquisitely beautiful man—and he _was_ beautiful to Luke now, qualifiers like “old” and “aging” no longer seemed to apply—was being pleasured in return. He hadn’t allowed Luke to stroke him to hardness, and he hadn’t touched himself there either, not once. Yet Luke had watched intently as Ben’s penis thickened and lifted, gradually and in discrete stages, a perfect match to the same agonizing, slow pace of their lovemaking.

And they _were_ making love, Luke and Ben. This was no transactional “taking” or bestial “fucking”—this was about sharing. Luke had been committing to memory each and every twist and twitch and tremble of Ben’s facial expressions, and so he knew that they were experiencing the same sensations, the same emotions. And sometimes Ben would bend at the waist, bring their chests together, bracket his arms around Luke’s head, and bury his face into the crook of Luke’s neck and shoulder while Luke murmured affectionate nonsense and held him tight, caressing the trembling, sweaty expanse of his back.

When finally, finally, _finally_ , Ben let go and came, his back was straight, head thrown toward the ceiling, wanton and lost in his ecstasy. And while he spilled only a modest quantity of fluid out onto Luke’s chest, his inner muscles clasped Luke so suddenly and strongly that for the first time Luke began to thrust up into Ben wildly, following him faster than lightspeed into yet another orgasm.

Either a moment or an eternity passed. Who knew? Their foreheads were touching, and they panted into each other’s mouths, sharing the same hot breaths. Ben’s eyes were closed, and he was repeating Luke’s name over and over like a plea or a benediction, and Luke’s chin tilted…and _ohGodsohGods_ they were kissing.

Never kiss a whore, they said. It’s a violation, a taboo, the one thing you must never, ever do, they said.

But kissing Ben didn’t feel wrong, and Ben didn’t seem bothered in the least. He was, in fact, reciprocating enthusiastically, and the touch of lips and teeth and tongues was another whole new realm of ecstatic experience. Luke could feel Ben’s mouth curling into a smile against his own, a split second before a warm, wicked tongue slid past his defenses and delicately flicked against the roof of his mouth. Luke jerked spasmodically; he’d never dreamed that spot would be so sensitive!

“Ben, I—” Luke began, breaking the kiss.

“No,” Ben said, “no words now. You’re a wonder, Luke.”

And they were kissing, and their fingers were interlaced, and their hips were undulating in perfect synchronicity, and they began again.

Maybe if I wish hard enough, Luke thought, this will never have to end.

***

But of course it did, and even before Luke had made his way out of the brothel and back aboveground to look upon the long shadows of late afternoon, he was already planning his return.

It wasn’t going to be as straightforward as booking himself into another three-hour appointment. There were two problems.

The first was credits—and Luke had spent the last of his meager personal savings on that second visit—but credits were the easy part. All he had to do was win a few daredevil races down at Beggar’s Canyon, and he was the best pilot this side of the Dune Sea, so he won nearly all of the time. The most difficult part, to be honest, would be finding anyone this side of the Dune Sea still gullible enough to fly or bet against him!

The second problem was the bigger one. The only part of the day Luke ever had free from both school and work on the farm was afternoon rest hours, when virtually the entire sentient population of Tatooine was indoors and avoiding the worst of the daily desert heat. Normal beings ate a light meal, took naps, had sex. Some of that sex involved whores. Unfortunately, Aunt Beru liked doing chores during afternoon rest hours—she must have come out of the womb with a to-do list already in hand, Luke had decided long ago—and she often saw to it that Luke had something to keep him occupied too. Oh, and she wasn’t stupid, either, so she knew _all_ about brothels and the teenage boys who patronized them.

She wouldn’t be above comming the brothel and telling them to send Luke on back home because she wanted him to help her pickle vegetables or something. And that would be nothing short of a catastrophe…especially if Ben found out. He’d rather die. Actually, Uncle Owen would probably kill him and mount his dead body to one of the vaporators first anyway.

So, between the twin dilemmas of finances and family members, it took Luke the better part of a month before he was able to return to the brothel, and by then he was missing Ben so badly that he was dreaming of him virtually every night.

“Good afternoon. How may I help you?” the KT-series droid stationed at the brothel entrance asked politely in her servile electronic voice.

“Hi, Kaytee, good to see you again. I’d like some time with Ben. Is he available today?” Luke asked, rocking from foot to foot in his eagerness. He was sure the droid recognized him, so he didn’t bother pretending not to be familiar.

He was expecting Kaytee to quote him an hourly rate. That’s what she’d done before. But this time, her mechanical head swiveled back and forth slowly, faulty servomotors whining quietly in protest at the movement. “I regret to inform you, sir, that Ben is no longer with us. He gave notice, effective immediately, three weeks ago.”

 

TO BE CONTINUED


	6. Chapter 6

Disconsolate, Luke exited the brothel and headed straight for the nearest cantina. He wasn’t normally the type to go drinking in the middle of the day, and it certainly wasn’t a habit his aunt and uncle encouraged, but at the moment all he wanted to do was drown his disappointment in strong alcohol.

The interior of the cantina was shadowed and smoky, the faint bluish light of a HoloNet news broadcast giving the facial features of the loyal handful of hard-drinking patrons an eerie, ghoulish cast. Luke ordered his usual without thinking and was about to claim a stool at the bar when his eyes were drawn inexorably to a hooded figure seated alone in a corner booth.

The figure was indistinct but appeared to be slumped over slightly, already deep in its? her? his?—no, definitely “his”—cups. It struck Luke as odd how the rest of the beings in the cantina appeared, to a one, to be either studiously ignoring or avoiding the figure. It was almost like he wasn’t even there. Perhaps he was dangerous. Or socially undesirable…an indigent or a prostitute.

Oh. _Oh._

Luke approached the figure cautiously, trying to see the face beneath the cowl of the robe. “Ben?” he asked. No response. “Ben Kenobi?” he tried again.

At the name “Kenobi,” the figure’s head shot up. It _was_ Ben, and his eyes were bright and wary. He wasn’t actually drunk. How odd.

“May I join you?” Luke asked.

Ben nodded but otherwise said nothing.

Luke slid into the seat of the booth across from Ben and waited.

Ben remained quiet and unmoving. He was like a different man entirely outside the bedroom, remote and sexless. The silence stretched out thin and brittle between them, and eventually Luke realized that it was incumbent upon him to break it.

“So, uhh,” Luke began at last, trying his level best not to squirm, “Kaytee says you gave notice at the brothel. Are you okay? Is something the matter?” A sudden, sickening thought struck Luke like a blaster bolt through the chest. “It wasn’t because of something I did…was it?”

Ben’s eyebrows rose, and he snorted softly. “Goodness, no. Why would a couple of pleasant appointments with a polite paying customer compel me to leave my line of work?” he asked rhetorically. “I’m fine. It’s not… It’s just that…” Ben’s voice tapered off as his attention diverted to the newscast that was still being projected from an emulator above the bar.

The reporter was saying something about the entire Imperial Senate having been dissolved and dismissed from Coruscant. The Emperor, it seemed, was further consolidating his absolute authority over the galaxy.

“The galaxy is changing rapidly. I didn’t want to be caught unawares,” Ben said, attention back to Luke. He sounded uncharacteristically serious. Pensive. So different from the sensual, mischievous man with whom Luke had shared such joyous intimacies these past weeks.

And anyway, Luke didn’t understand why Ben should be so preoccupied with galactic politics in the first place. Coruscant and the endless machinations of its courtiers were countless lightyears away; Imperial Senate or no Imperial Senate, nothing would ever change on this miserable dustball. Did Tatooine even have a sitting Senator? Luke didn’t know—probably something they taught at school on one of the many days he’d skipped out to practice his flying with Biggs and the rest—

Ben, seeming to sense the direction of Luke’s thoughts, regarded him with a gentle bemusement and remarked, “It is privilege to be so carefree.”

Luke frowned. He didn’t _feel_ carefree. To the contrary. School was about to finish, all his closest friends were leaving for bigger, better opportunities offworld, and Uncle Owen had made it abundantly clear that the only thing Luke had to look forward to was more moisture farming. He’d assumed, at least, that his lovely secret liaisons with Ben would continue, but now…

By the Twin Sun Gods, this was depressing!

Again, Ben seemed to read Luke’s mind. “I’m just an old whore, son, and with increasing age come erectile dysfunction, outright impotence…” he paused and chuckled, a hint of that familiar warmth resurfacing finally, “and, I should hope, wisdom enough to know that young people such as yourself should seek out other young people for their pleasures.”

“But I don’t want other young people! I want _you_!” Luke exclaimed without thinking.

Ben was surprised by his outburst. That struck Luke as unutterably sad.

“Besides,” Luke continued, blushing furiously but pretending valiantly that he wasn’t embarrassed by the subject, “I didn’t notice you having any problems…down there.”

“Ah. Well. Ahem. You were a special case. I enjoyed teaching you.” Ben appeared to have found something absolutely fascinating at the bottom of his otherwise untouched cup.

Well, well, well. He _wasn’t_ just another customer to Ben after all!! Luke felt an electric surge of renewed hope sizzle through him. Here was his chance—no backing down. “If you enjoyed it so much, then how about another lesson, say for old times’ sake?” Luke asked boldly.

“Erm, I really don’t think—” Ben was muttering.

“You’re a great teacher, and I know there’s still lots more for me to learn,” Luke persisted, taking Ben’s hands into his own. The skin of both of his palms was blistered and rubbed raw. What had Ben been doing to himself these past weeks?!

“That may be true, but—” Ben’s protests were getting weaker by the nanosecond. He did not attempt to withdraw his hands from Luke’s.

“Ben. _Please_. I want you to teach me how to be taken, to hold a lover deep inside.” Slowly, deliberately, all the while holding Ben’s gaze, he lifted those wounded hands to his lips and kissed them tenderly, each and every last scab and salty, weeping sore in turn.

They stared at each other, frozen.

“Unfortunately, there isn’t anywhere for us to go,” Ben whispered. His expression was suffused with regret…and profound yearning.

Luke’s heart was singing; he knew he’d won. Ben would be _his_ again.

“Don’t worry. I have an idea about that,” Luke assured him.

 

TO BE CONTINUED


	7. Chapter 7

There were, Luke knew, precisely three categories of places that men might go to escape the worst of the heat of Tatooine’s twin suns—the cantina, the brothel, or the inn—and it was to the last of these which he elected to take Ben now.

That old adage about everybody knowing everybody remained in full force here as well: The Sidi Driss Inn was managed by Aunt Beru’s little sister Dama.

She gave Luke the side-eye from her seat behind the reception desk as he entered the inn’s lobby, Ben trailing unobtrusively behind him like his own personal cloaked and hooded shadow. “Don’t you have homework that needs doing?” she asked without preamble. “Or chores?” she added pointedly. Dama _was_ Aunt Beru’s sister, after all, and knew her industrious proclivities as they were applied to her step-nephew better than almost anybody.

“Do you have any vacancies at the moment?” Luke asked, pretending he hadn’t heard those intrusive questions.

“What do you think?” Dama snorted.

No, business in the hospitality sector didn’t exactly boom in this part of Tatooine.

Luke glanced up at the wall chrono and did some quick math in his head. They’d have over six hours together. Excellent. “How much for a sweet day?”

“A _sweet day—_?!?!” both Dama and Ben, who had heretofore been completely silent, exclaimed in unison. Dama in front, Ben from behind: It was like being aurally assaulted in stereo surround.

“Erm, aren’t sweet days for newlyweds…?!” Ben was spluttering.

“And why, young man, are you associating with the likes of _him_?!” Dama was asking accusingly, having seemingly taken notice of Ben for the first time just now and staring at him with a self-righteous mixture of disapproval and disgust.

“Not necessarily,” Luke assured Ben, “and that’s not your concern; I thank you for neglecting to mention it to my aunt and uncle,” he snapped at Dama. She was Aunt Beru’s sister, true, but she was also only four years older than Luke himself and did not, therefore, merit his particular deference. He paused and took a deep, steadying breath. “Now, Dama, I think you were about to quote me today’s room rate for a sweet day,” he concluded.

Dama shrugged; she obviously had no interest in fighting a battle she would not win, and business was business. “Seventy credits. An additional fifteen if you want full service…and I’m not giving you a discount, so don’t ask.”

“Perfect,” Luke said as he forked over eighty-five credits. Discount or no discount, it was still a good deal.

***

The room at the inn was nice, nicer by a long shot than Ben’s brothel bedroom, nicer even than any of the bedrooms back at the Lars homestead. A clever system of mirrors meant that the cool, underground room was nonetheless awash in bright, natural light; the adjoining refresher was well-stocked with toiletries; and because Luke had paid for full service, a light meal suitable for afternoon rest hours was already prepared and laid out for them on a tray table.

Ben surveyed the room, his expression inscrutable. Then he lowered his hood and took a seat on a nearby wall bench.  

Feeling a bit shy and awkward again, now that they were alone, Luke sat down on the bench beside Ben, careful to keep a polite amount of distance between their two bodies. He still seemed as remote and sexless as he had been in that darkened corner of the cantina, and Luke did not wish to presume. Best, perhaps, given the circumstances, to get the preliminaries out of the way first, Luke decided. So, fumbling momentarily with the pouch hanging from his belt, Luke withdrew a wad of credits and held them out to Ben. “Here,” he began, speaking rapidly and with more bravado than he actually felt, “I know it’s less than your usual hourly rate, but I had to pay for the room, and since the brothel isn’t taking a cut, I figure—”

“No, Luke,” Ben interrupted gently, “I don’t need your credits, nor do I want them.” He said nothing further, stroking his beard in what appeared to be an unconscious habitual gesture, until Luke had reluctantly returned the credits to his pouch. “I will admit to being curious, however,” he resumed with a hint of self-deprecating humor in his voice, “about why you would want a sweet day in a nice inn such as this one with the likes of me. We’re not here to consummate a marriage I didn’t know about, are we?”

“ _No_!” Luke blushed. “That’s not what I intended! It’s just that inns like Sidi Driss always have special sweet day deals, and they tend to be the most cost-effective option if two beings want to book a room in town during afternoon rest hours. Nobody cares whether you’ve just gotten hitched or not.”

“Hmm. How interesting. I wasn’t aware of that particular outgrowth of the local marital customs. I’ll wager many beings also use these sweet days at the inn for secret romantic liaisons outside the bonds of matrimony,” Ben mused.

Luke blushed harder. Naturally, Ben was absolutely right; several of Luke’s own age-mates had undoubtedly enjoyed illicit sexual relations, away from the prying eyes and ears of family, in this very room.

Ben seemed able to read Luke’s embarrassed expression as easily as a fully-charged datapad, but he made no additional comment on the subject. Instead, his attention turned toward the food laid out on the tray table. “Well, since this ‘sweet day deal’ of yours came with a meal, it would be a shame to waste it,” he remarked casually. “Besides, I’m famished; I haven’t eaten all day.”

“Oh! Yes, of course!” Luke exclaimed and leapt to his feet to bring the tray table over closer to Ben. The meal for two consisted of spiced flatbread, bantha sausage, and thick, sky-blue yogurt, served with a steaming pot of bitter black tea. It was simple yet satisfying, and a warm, lazy feeling of contentment settled over Luke as his belly filled.

Ben, too, seemed to relax as he ate, and some of that odd tension hanging around him ever since they’d reunited in the cantina was finally, _finally_ , ebbing away. Encouraged, Luke began to chatter at random about finishing school, the desert, settler skirmishes with the Tuskens, the weather, racing down at Beggar’s Canyon, his thwarted ambition to join an Imperial flight academy, Uncle Owen and his unreasonable edicts that were sure to consign Luke to an eternity of moisture farming purgatory. Ben never interrupted. He merely listened with infinite patience and an enigmatic but indulgent smile curling the edges of his lips.

Ultimately, it was that smile that did it. As one bodily hunger was satisfied, a different, but no less urgent one, had started to rise…

And when Luke leaned forward to press a soft kiss against one curving corner of those sensual lips, Ben did not pull back.

 

TO BE CONTINUED

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (1) The Sidi Driss Inn and Beru’s younger sister Dama come from the novel _Tatooine Ghost_ by Troy Denning.
> 
> (2) The concept of the “sweet day,” on the other hand, if you haven’t already guessed, is all mine. :-p


	8. Chapter 8

_Never kiss a whore on the lips._

But Ben wasn’t a whore anymore, was he? He’d left the brothel and his work there, and he’d flatly refused the credits Luke had offered him for his time on this occasion. So, for now, and for Luke, in this moment, Ben was simply Ben.

Special. Precious. Beloved.

Their kisses began slow and unhurried, tender, undemanding, mutual explorations. Oh, how Luke adored the taste of Ben’s mouth, the familiar, everyday flavors of their recent meal and that which was distinctly and uniquely _Ben_ underneath them. Luke pressed closer, his hands rising to touch Ben’s face as they continued their kiss, learning its contours with the fleshy pads of his fingers, tracing the lined forehead, the noble brow, the fluttering flesh of closed eyelids, the delicate fan of lashes, the high cheekbones, the straight line of the nose, the thick facial hair that tickled Luke so delightfully.

Luke broke the kiss expressly in order to nuzzle deeply into that lovely, silky beard, and his hands slid around to the back of Ben’s head, burying his fingers into wispy, tousled white hair as he dropped ardent, wet kisses along the line of Ben’s jawbone and down the throbbing pulse of his neck. Luke nipped and suckled the flesh at the juncture of neck and shoulder, hard enough to leave a mark, a visible sign of his possession, of his claim on this lovely, wonderful man, and he felt Ben shudder in response, cognizant of Luke’s intent and accepting of it.

All the while, Ben was making incoherent noises of affection and pleasure, noises that occasionally sounded a bit like Luke’s name but more often only sounded like wordless enjoyment. His arms had wrapped themselves around Luke’s waist, holding, cradling him in an embrace unmistakable in its unconditional devotion.

But Luke was starting to feel stymied and frustrated by the many layers of Ben’s well-worn desert garb, modesty better suited to an itinerant priest than a retired whore. He tugged futilely at Ben’s collars, trying and failing to loosen them, whining like a wounded animal in wanton desperation, hopelessly aroused and so close already he feared he might spill himself right into his pants if he couldn’t—

“Please, Ben. Please. I want you; I need you—I want to know what it’s like to hold you inside…” Luke was muttering against Ben’s neck, rambling, barely coherent himself. “Please, Ben, oh please, Ben, take me take me _take me_ —”

That last request was unequivocal, and Ben did pull back then, finally. Luke understood, however, that this was not meant as a rejection. Indeed, Ben was panting heavily, like he’d just tried to outrun a racing pod. His pupils were dark and dilated with desire, but his hands were steady and firm on Luke’s shoulders as he asked, “Are you certain that’s what you truly want?”

“Yes. _Yes_.” Luke was panting too, but stopping when they did was allowing him to safely back off from the incipient orgasm. “Yes,” he repeated a third time, gathering his courage, “I’m certain. I’ve even…I’ve even cleansed and prepared myself for you.”

“Did you now?” Uh-oh, that skin around the outer edges of Ben’s eyes was crinkling. “How long did you work on loosening and stretching the anal sphincter? And what kind of lubricant have you applied?”

 _Oh_. Oh no! He’d been stupid yet again! Luke felt his stomach drop like a freighter in freefall. He hadn’t done any of that. Hadn’t even considered it. “I, uhh, I gave it a thorough washing this morning. I-I th-thought that would be sufficient.”

“Mmm.” Ben looked anything but surprised by Luke’s embarrassed revelation. “Well, that is not sufficient. You will have to be prepared properly. I refuse to harm you. In fact…” Ben’s gaze slid away from Luke’s, and he appeared almost ashamed. “If you wish to experience penetration for the first time, it may be better if it weren’t with me. You’ve seen me, Luke; I’m not small. It may be difficult even with preparation, and you may not enjoy it very much. A different, more…modestly-proportioned partner might make for a more pleasant first experience—”

“But I already said I wanted _you_!” Luke interrupted, protesting, appalled by Ben’s newfound reticence. Of course he remembered; he’d been fantasizing about Ben’s big, beautiful penis nonstop _for weeks_! The glistening, pointed glans, the long, thick shaft, the flesh of the scrotum beneath flushing rosy as the sunset and tightening in the seconds before he came…

Besides, big or small, it didn’t matter in the least— _because it was Ben’s, and Luke wanted Ben_. He thought they’d established that back in the cantina.

“And I know you want me too. I can tell,” Luke concluded with an authority he almost actually believed.

Ben heaved a sigh. As always, he seemed to sense the direction of Luke’s thoughts and realize that there was no point in further interrogating his resolve. “Very well. I know when I’m not going to win the argument. I’ve had plenty of experience in my not inconsiderable life not winning arguments with stubborn young men, you know.” He chuckled and ruffled Luke’s hair.

Idly, Luke wondered what other young men Ben meant. Ben’s reputation as a hermit was practically legend; Luke didn’t think there were any young men besides himself in Ben’s life lately. But what about in his past? Now _that_ was quite the mystery—

“Come,” Ben said, interrupting Luke’s ruminations as he rose to his feet, “let’s see if there’s anything suitable in the ’fresher with which to prepare you.”

 

TO BE CONTINUED


	9. Chapter 9

“Goodness. The bathtub in here is large enough for a Hutt.”

“Yeah. They stay here sometimes. It’s an important feature.” Luke shrugged. Jabba and his criminal cartel were a fact of life on Tatooine—the proprietors of the Sidi Driss Inn would be idiots not to be accommodating to the Hutts wherever possible. “Do you want to try it out?” he asked. “The first one-hundred liters are on the house. All reclaimed, of course, and I know some object to using other beings’ old bathwater, but…”

“Hmm.” Ben seemed distracted, attention focused on a close examination of the diverse selection of toiletries lined up around the lip of the tub. Luke didn’t think Ben had been listening to his prattle about reclaimed bathwater, which was probably just as well. After a few moments, Ben picked up a bottle. “This should suit,” he said, turning to face Luke and showing him the bottle. It was simple mineral oil, mildly scented and popular with humans and Hutts alike for its excellent dermal moisturizing properties.

“Umm…that’s great…” Luke replied. Reality was setting in; he was starting to feel nervous again.

“Luke—” Ben began, considerate and tender. Obviously Ben didn’t want to do anything Luke himself didn’t want to do.

But no, he did want this—really, he did!—and he knew he needed to make his move now—before he lost his courage. So, without ceremony, he stripped naked and got onto the bed on his hands and knees. He’d never dreamed he’d ever willingly assume such a vulnerable position, yet here he was, his erection pointing proudly downwards. The bed was soft as a cloud, he realized distantly; at least this wasn’t going to happen on an unyielding, unpleasant surface…

A touch grazed his spine, and he couldn’t help it—he flinched. His heart was racing. He squeezed his eyes shut.

“Luke, no,” Ben was murmuring, “not like this. You’re too tense.”

Then the warm weight of Ben’s naked body was covering his own and easing him down flat onto the mattress, and a wet, oil-soaked hand was worming its way underneath his belly to take him in hand and stroke firmly. “Come for me. I need your pleasure to kindle mine,” Ben breathed into Luke’s ear and shifted his hips so that Luke could feel Ben’s genitals nestled between his thighs. It was true; Ben wasn’t yet hard.

That revelation was both shocking and intensely arousing. Luke arched against Ben’s body and ground into his hand until he was lost in ecstasy.

When he came back to himself, muscles loose and mind fuzzy in the afterglow, there were already three fingers tenderly delving into his anus. Remarkably, it didn’t feel scary or strange. It just felt…intimate. Sweet. What by the Gods had they been so scared of in the first place? Luke sighed happily.

“How are you doing?” Ben asked. A second hand massaged the small of Luke’s back in soothing circular motions.

“Fine,” Luke replied. More than fine, actually. He rubbed his erection against the mattress a couple of times, moaning, and then pushed upwards into Ben’s fingers. A bright flare of pleasure like nothing he had ever experienced before burst up his spine and down his limbs, making all of his fingers and toes tingle and curl. A high-pitched whine escaped from between tightly clenched teeth.

Ben inhaled sharply.

“Please, Ben. I think I’m ready,” Luke said.

“I think you’re right.” Ben’s voice sounded light, but there was also a rich tension in it. Yes, he was more than ready too.

“Hurry,” Luke pleaded, scrabbling back up onto his hands and knees. He knew instinctively that this would be the best position for intercourse.

He would never forget what it was like to be taken that first time. Ben had lubricated him well, and there was no resistance, only an exquisite feeling of fullness and of being touched inside in all those secret, private places no one had ever been before, so deep into him he imagined he could feel Ben in his _throat_. Ben held himself motionless once he was totally in, hands firm on Luke’s hips, but his penis was throbbing to the synchronized beating of their hearts, and Luke didn’t want to wait another nanosecond.

“Move,” he begged.

And Ben did. Slowly, of course, far, far, _far_ too slowly, each careful withdrawal and new penetration worse than the most inventive of Imperial tortures. Luke’s focus narrowed until his entire galaxy, his entire universe, was comprised entirely of those in and out, in and out caresses, that pleasing stretch of his anus, that delicious scrape against the spot that set his nerves aflame and made him leak thick droplets, untouched, like a faulty vaporator condenser coil. Oh yes, Ben had been right: There was nothing better than holding a lover here.

Gradually, the speed of Ben’s thrusts began to increase, steady at least, and intense, albeit still much too slow. Ben’s arms were wrapped tightly around Luke’s chest now, and his body, sweat-damp, rested against Luke’s back as his hips undulated. They were both breathing heavily, and Luke reveled in the moist sounds of their joining, of the rhythmic slapping of skin against skin, in the intoxicating scent of their sex rising all around them in the room. Ben felt thicker and bigger than ever inside of him, and from that Luke knew he was approaching completion.

Then, out of nowhere, something…remarkable. Ben was in his mind, and Luke was in Ben’s, and Luke felt Ben’s next thrust into him just like each delicious, unnumbered thrust before it, but he also felt the thrust as if _his own penis_ were doing the penetrating. He was taking and being taken simultaneously, his feelings and Ben’s forming a positive feedback loop—and this escalation of shared sensations was, at last, too much to be borne.

As Luke crashed helplessly into his second orgasm and began to ejaculate, jet after thick jet of semen streaming out from him, Ben pulled Luke forcefully upright off the mattress and into a position he shouldn’t have had the brute strength to perform. Near-witless, Luke was floating, caught, writhing in this devastating pleasure. His head fell backward to rest on Ben’s shoulder, and Ben was sobbing and wailing and nipping at Luke’s earlobe as his own orgasm overtook him and he began to spasm, filling Luke to the brim with his own long gushes of sticky warmth.

They collapsed onto the bed facedown and lay together, joined, for a long time afterwards. At some point, somehow, Ben had just enough energy left over to pull the soft bedclothes up and over their exhausted, replete bodies, moments before they were both swallowed into the peaceful oblivion of perfect, dreamless sleep.

 

TO BE CONTINUED


	10. Chapter 10

Luke woke in a soft, warm bed. Eyes still closed, he smiled to himself and snuggled deeper against the pillow. Ben’s—no, his _lover’s_ —familiar scent filled his nostrils. He couldn’t recall a time he’d felt happier, more content. Safe. Cherished. Oh Ben.

There had been no pain. Not the slightest discomfort whatsoever at any point during their lovemaking…and he’d come so hard. They both had, actually; the dampness and the lingering ache between his legs were sweet reminders of how profusely Ben had spent himself inside Luke.

He wanted to make love again. Right now, dammit! Surely they had the time. Luke turned his head to check the nearest chrono. Hmm. It seemed they had slept away most of afternoon rest hours; there was a little less than an hour and a half left to their sweet day. Still, that ought to be sufficient to—

Luke sat bolt upright. He was alone in the bed. His heart skipped a beat.

Sick with panic, he surveyed the room. It was empty. Where was Ben?! How could he have just up and left without saying goodbye, after everything that had happened between them, after the wondrous, intensely spiritual connection they had shared in those final moments of ecstasy—?!

No, _wait_. Their discarded clothing was still in the same single messy pile beside the bed, where they’d so hastily shed it, and Luke could hear the splash of running water issuing from the refresher. He could also hear the sound of someone humming tunelessly in there.

Thank the Gods for small blessings.

“Ah, perfect timing,” Ben said as Luke entered the refresher. He was crouched near the side of the bathtub, in the process of shutting off the flow of steaming water. “Get in. We need to clean you out.”

“Wait, whaaa…?” Luke was baffled, openmouthed. Was he talking about…? Yes, he was. But Luke _liked_ having a part of Ben left deposited inside him. The last thing he wanted to do was remove it. Luke’s jaw snapped shut with an audible click.

Ben saw the stubborn set of Luke’s jaw and chuckled, shaking his head ruefully. “I’m flattered, Luke, really I am, but the oil we used has…laxative properties.” He paused significantly. “If we don’t clean you out now, you may have an unpleasant, err, _moving_ experience later tonight.”

Oh. Well. That was a dewback of a different texture altogether. Luke climbed into the tub without further resistance.

“Join me?” he asked. The Hutt-sized tub was more than big enough for two humans.

“Of course,” Ben agreed and slid into the hot soapy water beside him with a pleased groan.

They proceeded to wash each other with the attentiveness and easy familiarity of two beings with nothing left to hide from each other. Ben showed Luke how to cleanse his rectum properly, and Luke realized that this was as much a part of the lesson as the intercourse itself. Luke, for his part, treated Ben’s body with utmost reverence and care, and he paid special attention to those poor, abused hands.

“How did this happen?” Luke asked as he gently picked deeply embedded bits of grit from those wounds.

“It was necessary. I’ve been out of practice,” Ben said shortly.

Luke knew from that tone not to press the subject further, so instead he sidled forward to rest his body against Ben’s. It was obvious that they weren’t going to have sex again today, but this simple closeness, this unconditional togetherness, was equally delightful. Words were not necessary. Ben held him in a loose embrace while they soaked.

Suddenly, the room’s comm unit chimed. “Twenty minute warning, loverboy.” It was Dama’s voice. “No dawdling, or I start charging by the hour.”

Ben sighed, removed his arms from Luke’s waist, stood up, and stepped out of the tub. “I suppose we’d better get going,” he said, reaching for a towel.

Luke clambered awkwardly out after him and claimed a towel of his own. He dried off with a few perfunctory swipes—there was no need to be thorough, as the desert would quickly snatch any leftover moisture. “We don’t have to go, you know,” he said eagerly. “If you want, we could stay the night. In fact, we could…”

New possibilities were spreading out before Luke like the sands of the Dune Sea. Maybe they didn’t need to meet at brothels or cantinas or inns any longer. It wasn’t like Luke _truly_ cared what Uncle Owen or Aunt Beru or his friends or Dama or any other being on the whole of Tatooine thought, and he didn’t think Ben cared either. Maybe they could be together, out in the open—

“Don’t you have school tomorrow?” Ben’s question was so banal that Luke was momentarily dumbstruck. Turned out Ben _had_ been listening to his chatter about school.

“Huh? Yeah, but it’s just the last day—”

“You should go. You’re a good student, son, and good endings are important,” Ben interrupted. He handed Luke his clothes and began to get dressed himself.

Luke put his clothes back on without thinking. Nevertheless, as he was clipping his belt around his waist, he tried one last time: “But _Ben_ —” He was whining, he knew, but he couldn’t help it.

“Don’t worry. You’ll see me again soon, I promise,” Ben assured him, smiling. He reached out to caress Luke’s cheek tenderly with the back of one hand.

Luke leaned into the caress. Even now that Ben was fully clothed again, he no longer seemed remote or sexless. He was _Ben Kenobi_ , the beautiful man with whom Luke had made unforgettable, magical love …and whom Luke trusted absolutely.

Besides, the mark Luke had made on Ben’s neck stood out bright red on his suns-toughened skin, directly above the collars of his tunics, and Luke felt a secret tingle of pleasure at the sight of it.

“Thank you for the sweet day, Luke,” Ben said softly. His forefinger probed the mark on his neck. “For everything, actually. These days with you have been the sweetest I have ever known.”

They kissed long and hard, then, but it wasn’t goodbye.

***

The next day, after Luke got home from school, Uncle Owen was already standing in the kitchen waiting for him. Luke froze, his stomach sinking in horror. Stupid Dama hadn’t kept her mouth shut about him and Ben, and he was about to get the everliving poodoo chewed out of him.

But it wasn’t that. Not at all.

“Much as I hate to admit it, I’ve decided that you were right, Luke,” Uncle Owen announced. “There’s just too much work on the farm for the three of us. So keep an eye out for the Jawas, will you? Next they come ’round, we’ll get a droid off them.”

 

END

**Author's Note:**

> **Author’s Gratuitous Cultural/Worldbuilding Note:**
> 
> In the world of this story, a “sweet day” is Tatooine’s equivalent of a honeymoon. So, a “sweet day” in the most traditional sense refers to when a couple first consummates a marriage. (The implication here is that the typical marriage ceremony on Tatooine would happen early in the morning, then the newlyweds would retire to privacy for the afternoon, the hottest part of the day, and finally in the evening, when the temperature is more pleasant, there would be a big public celebration.)
> 
> “Sweet day” also has other colloquial meanings. For example, like honeymoon, it can be used to describe the first, best part of a period of long temporal duration, e.g. “Oh well. It looks like my sweet day at this new job is over.” 
> 
> And finally, because I assume for this story's purposes that taking siestas during the hottest part of the day is normal practice on Tatooine—this is referred to as “afternoon rest hours”—inns such as the Sidi Driss have special “sweet day” room rates corresponding to these afternoon rest hours. Thus, a “sweet day” can also refer to a sexual liaison in the afternoon, often secretive since the people who would normally discover it and/or disapprove are indoors and resting.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Most Bitter Night](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11846364) by [I_Gave_You_Fair_Warning](https://archiveofourown.org/users/I_Gave_You_Fair_Warning/pseuds/I_Gave_You_Fair_Warning)




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